Radiant Blade of the Wilderness

Chapter 13: History

The throne of Thearch refers to the position of Celestial Thearch? And the Human Sovereign is the emperor of the mortal world? Ding Songyan’s interest in the book in his hands surged.

Qingyan heard his answer and her expression cleared with understanding.

”There’s no need to rush, is there? Rest a few more days before worrying about that.”

”Reading is also a form of rest.” Ding Songyan always had a reply.

Qingyan did not press further. She went behind the screen and came back with books, paper, brushes, inkstone, and ink.

”I’m going to practice my calligraphy.” Her tone was light as she headed for the main room.

Ding Songyan waved her off and turned his full attention to the storytelling script.

The script was written in sparse summary. Of the ancient era, it mentioned only that Zhuanxu succeeded to the throne of Thearch and commanded Chong and Li to sever the connection between heaven and earth. After that, the Celestial Thearch continued to walk among men and serve concurrently as Human Sovereign, in succession: Tang Yao, Yu Shun, Xia Yu. When Xia Hou Qi became Human Sovereign, there were no further accounts of a Celestial Thearch appearing in the world.

”According to the Secret Classic’s annotations, Emperor Zhuanxu is the Northern Emperor, the Black Emperor of the North. He’s one of the Five Directional Emperors, certainly, but by no means the highest. So why do all these scripts list him as the Celestial Thearch between the Yellow Emperor and Tang Yao... For people today who lack any lineage, ancient matters are genuinely difficult to verify. But surely something as momentous as who led the severing of heaven and earth couldn’t be wrong? And every account agrees... If the one who led the severing wasn’t the Celestial Thearch, then who was?” Ding Songyan quickly flipped through several other books.

He mulled it over for a long time, then ventured an uncertain guess.

”The Secret Classic is supposedly copied from the Emperor-Annotated Classic of Mountains and Seas, and all the major sects take it extremely seriously. It’s unlikely to be wrong on a point like this.

”Could it be that ’Celestial Thearch’ isn’t a lineage but a position? That anyone who unites with the Great Way can become the Celestial Thearch?

”Or perhaps the lineage and the position are separable. Even with the lineage, without reaching the corresponding realm, one cannot become Celestial Thearch. In that case, whichever of the Black, Green, Flame, or White Emperors has united with the Great Way would serve in the role temporarily, yielding only when someone of the proper lineage reaches that level?

”And after the severing, the Celestial Thearch still ruled the mortal world, only vanishing when Qi founded the Xia dynasty. What reason could be hidden behind that?”

Ding Songyan could not puzzle it out and did not dwell on it further. What did the secrets of the mythological age have to do with an ordinary storyteller? No point wasting time on it.

He read on.

”The Xia dynasty endured a thousand years before declining. The Youqiong dynasty replaced the Xia dynasty and held the nation for six hundred...”

According to this storytelling script, the Xia dynasty had lasted a full thousand years, far longer than the Xia dynasty Ding Songyan remembered from his previous life. That was the first difference.

What replaced the Xia dynasty was not the Dark Bird that gave birth to the Shang dynasty, but a tribe called Youqiong. Its reign lasted over six hundred years, though the final two hundred saw local lords rising on all sides. Ding Songyan mentally mapped that period onto Ancient China’s Spring and Autumn era for convenience.

After the fall of the Youqiong dynasty, rival powers vied for supremacy for just over four hundred years. There was an age of competing philosophies. There was a sage surnamed Zuo who, in his youth, established military reforms through a coup; in middle age, propagated Confucian rites; and, in old age, founded the Daoist teaching and expounded on virtue.

The state that ended the era of warring powers was the Ying Nation, which after unifying the realm and subduing the hundred tribes adopted ”Qin” as its dynastic name. Its ruler proclaimed himself the First Emperor.

The Qin dynasty endured a little over two hundred years before giving way to the Han dynasty. The Han dynasty likewise lasted eight hundred years, and was likewise followed by the Three Kingdoms.

After that came the Wei dynasty, not the Jin dynasty. The Wei dynasty lasted under three hundred years before the realm descended into chaos, and the founding ancestor of the present dynasty rose from the position of Marquis of Zhao to unify all under heaven.

”The Qin dynasty excelled in rhapsody. The Han dynasty was strongest in poetry. The Wei dynasty flourished in the lyric. Wh...” Ding Songyan felt his mind beginning to fracture.

Every piece of history was half-familiar. So much of it he recognized, yet assembled in strange new configurations. It left him feeling like a man who had dreamed he was a butterfly, only to wake and wonder whether he was now a butterfly dreaming it was a man.

He forced his emotions level and began searching coolly for useful information and patterns.

”Several dynasties are missing, a few new ones have appeared. But the dynasties I recognize—Xia, Qin, Han, Wei—their sequence is correct...

”Rhapsody, poetry, lyric. The chronological order in which each flourished is also correct, just not matched to the dynasties I remember...

”If I had to describe it in one word...”

Ding Songyan’s brow furrowed slightly.

Displacement!

A displaced timeline? Having finished the script and gained a basic understanding of this world’s history, he gathered his writing materials, left the west wing, and sat down across from Qingyan. He spread out paper and fumbled with the ink stick, trying clumsily to grind ink.

Qingyan, who had been focused on her calligraphy, glanced up and pushed her own inkstone toward the middle of the table.

”Use mine for now.”

”All right.” Ding Songyan accepted without argument.

He had only practiced brush calligraphy for two or three years as a child. His posture was passable, but once brush met paper the rustiness was plain, and the characters that emerged were as ugly as they could possibly be.

Most critically, he could only write simplified characters, and even among those, quite a few had slipped from memory. He planned to leave blanks and ask Qingyan about them all at the end.

”Second Brother, what kind of characters are those?” Qingyan craned her pale, graceful neck to peer at the writing across the table.

Ding Songyan answered with perfect composure.

”I’ve lost most of my memories, remember? I’ve forgotten how to write many characters properly. I can only manage simplified versions. Some I’ll need to ask you about.”

This was why choosing honesty from the start had been the right decision. No need to rack his brains for excuses afterward. A casual deflection handled most problems.

”You can barely write anymore...” Qingyan set down her brush and came around to stand behind him, studying the paper for a moment. A note of heartache crept into her murmur. ”Some of these simplified forms have been used by scholars in the past, so they’re recognizable... Second Brother, what are you writing?”

”I had a flash of inspiration last night. I want to write a story about a yao falling in love with a human.” Ding Songyan thought for a moment. ”Once I finish the whole thing, you can copy it out neatly for me. I’ll take it to the storytellers’ guild and see what price it fetches. I’ll give you a share; help you save up some private funds.”

Qingyan’s eyes lit up instantly.

”Yes! I’d love that!”

The mention of money reminded her of something.

”Second Brother, did you buy the gift for Qu Zhongheng for me?”

”...” Ding Songyan went quiet. ”I forgot.”

”It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll look for something tonight when I go out with Father or Mother to buy food. Or tomorrow works too.” Qingyan waved it off with a bright smile and returned to her seat to continue practicing.

She wrote in a beautiful, delicate style.

Ding Songyan bent his head and immersed himself in the creation of The Legend of the White Snake.

This section needed to develop from the story point he remembered, Xu Xian and Lady Bai opening a medicine shop, all the way to the Dragon Boat Festival scene where realgar wine forces the white snake to reveal her true form, frightening Xu Xian to death.

What happened in between, he had long since forgotten. He could only invent.

His approach was to build from the collision between the two snake-yao’s supernatural nature and ordinary human society, highlighting what made the story unique.

First: Lady Bai uses magic to create minor illnesses, boosting the shop’s business. But she is moved and gradually influenced by Xu Xian’s genuine concern for the sick, for his neighbors, and for the poor. She begins to develop a ”human heart.” Then: Xiaoqing punishes a lecherous young man, setting off a chain of events that leads this naive snake-yao to gradually understand what love is, to understand the bond between her elder sister and Xu Xian. Finally: the two yao use their supernatural abilities to help Xu Xian’s relatives, his neighbors, the weak and suffering, to solve their problems and win them justice.

This section was primarily meant to be satisfying, with character growth and transformation woven in. Ding Songyan wrote with great enjoyment, nearly adding several more episodes.

But he reined himself in with reason. He also cut most of the domestic details and magistrate court scenes involving Xu Xian’s relatives, because the girl in the white dress was not from Dingjiang Prefecture and would not be staying long.

Under these circumstances, a story too short would not serve the goal of building a connection and accumulating goodwill. But a story too long risked the best parts not being heard before she left, failing to leave the deepest possible impression.

By the time he finished, the sun was leaning west. Ding Songyan transferred the brush to his left hand and shook out his right wrist.

Even writing a rough outline took this long... He reviewed the pages laid out to dry while pondering whether to write down the song Bai Suzhen at the Foot of Qingcheng Mountain.

He thought the girl in the white dress was young enough to be receptive to novel things, unlikely to reject such an unusual style of song.

And the more unusual something was, the deeper an impression it would leave. The more she would remember a man called Ding Songyan.

That was one reason. The other was that Ding Songyan felt the song, introduced at certain moments in the story, would be the finishing touch that elevated the whole. For example, when Lady Bai’s emotions were at their most intense, or her reflections at their deepest.

Fortunately, the lyrics are simple, and it was covered by several singers over the years. I heard it often enough... Ding Songyan quickly finished writing out the lyrics. For the very few portions where his memory was unclear, he tried filling in the gaps himself.

”Brother, Xu Xian dies just like that?” While the ink dried and she helped gather and fold the pages, Qingyan read through what amounted to a detailed outline. She was clearly drawn in.

Ding Songyan gave a terse acknowledgement.

”Yes.”

”Then— then what happens? What comes next?” Qingyan’s eyes went wide.

”Next?” Ding Songyan glanced at his sister. ”There is no next.”

”...” Qingyan went blank for a moment, then realized her brother was teasing her and began to whine.

Only then did Ding Songyan relent.

”The next episode is Lady Bai stealing an immortal herb to save Xu Xian.”

If his ”primary audience” responded well, he might even add an episode where Lady Bai storms the underworld and snatches Xu Xian’s soul back from Meng Po, the goddess of oblivion.

”Immortal herb? Oh, an elixir of immortality!” Qingyan’s expression eased with relief.

Right, in this world’s folk customs, ”elixir of immortality” would be more readily understood than ”immortal herb”... The thought had barely formed when the half-closed door was pushed open.

Liu Yuzao walked in, wearing her black gauze veil.

”Mother! Second Brother’s problem has been resolved!” Qingyan, still retaining a child’s impulses, skipped forward to meet her.

”Is that so?” Liu Yuzao removed her veil and turned her gaze toward Ding Songyan.

Ding Songyan repeated roughly what he had told his sister, omitting the Secret Classic and its true provider. Liu Yuzao’s expression gradually relaxed. Though subtle, a trace of genuine gladness showed through.

She gave a terse acknowledgement and said, ”If you have time tomorrow, go to the Zhen estate. Nuansheng helped enormously, and so did Master Yu. You should thank them in person. Our family must not lack courtesy.”

Once Ding Songyan agreed, Qingyan was already tugging at Liu Yuzao’s sleeve, pleading.

”Mother, can we celebrate tonight?”

Liu Yuzao gave a slight nod.

”Then I’ll go to the street and buy some food. What would you like?”

”Anything is fine with me.” Ding Songyan did not yet know the local options well enough, and only added, ”As long as there’s meat.”

”The crispy fragrant duck from Peony House!” Qingyan blurted out. ”Mother, let me come with you. I can look for Qu Zhongheng’s gift on the way.”

Liu Yuzao did not object. The mother-daughter duo put on their veils, took up a food box, and left.

By evening, the Ding family’s square table was laden with dishes. There was crispy fragrant duck, white-cut chicken glistening with fat, braised lamb in red sauce, steamed eggplant, dressed greens, a stack of baked flatbreads, a bucket of rice, and a bucket of chilled sweet mung bean soup to drink.

”Shall we have a little alcohol today?” Ding Shengyi turned his gaze toward his wife.

Liu Yuzao nodded.

Ding Shengyi’s face lit up at once. He produced a small jar of alcohol and turned to Ding Songyan.

”Rose Dew, from the magistrate’s office at New Year. Would you— would you two like a bowl...”

”You two” meant Ding Songyan and Bull.

Before he could finish, Liu Yuzao looked at him quietly, and he fell silent at once.

”Give me a bowl.” Liu Yuzao withdrew her gaze.

”Of course, of course!” Ding Shengyi laughed, broke the seal, and poured a bowl for himself and one for his wife.

Bull’s throat bobbed at the drifting scent of alcohol, but he did not dare ask.

Once Ding Songyan had poured chilled sweet mung bean soup for his brother, his sister, and himself, Ding Shengyi raised his wine bowl, looked around the table, and spoke in high spirits.

”May our family’s misfortunes end and good fortune follow!”

Ding Songyan, Liu Yuzao, and the others lifted their bowls. Smiles ranging from radiant to faint touched their faces as they brought them together.

Amid the crisp sound of bowls meeting, their voices rose in chorus:

”Misfortune passes, and good fortune follows!”